Seventeen
by atomic79
Summary: She woke up in a parking lot. No memories intact, only a vague memory of the number seventeen.
1. parking lot

"Who are you?" Dean demanded to know, holding the gun tight in his hands.

The girl shook in her spot as she was kneeling, slowly standing. She turned to face Dean and was met with a gun to the face.

"I... I don't know," the girl admitted, shaking in her spot. The concrete was cool under her bare feet.

"What do you mean by 'I don't know'?" Dean questioned, his knuckles going white. His trigger finger threatened to pull it.

"It means I don't have any clue to who you are, who I am, or what I'm doing here!" the girl burst, almost causing Dean to pull the trigger. He stopped himself just before he pulled it.

"No memories?" Dean inquired, cocking an eyebrow. He looked over the girl. She was shivering in her spot, the cool wind and bare feet having the effect. She was wildly looking around the small parking lot there were in. She was nervous. She didn't look like she didn't have any clue to what was happening.

"None," the girl admitted. Tears welled in her eyes. They were made from fear and apprehension. What the hell was she going to do?

"Can you tell me anything?" Dean asked, slowly pulling the gun down so it was pointed to the ground instead of her. He still held it in a grip ready to aim and fire at her, however.

The girl bit her bottom lip, finally admitting, "I have one memory. More like a small detail. I don't know what it's from."

"What is it?" Dean interrupted her, not letting the monologue continue. She took in a shuddering breath. A few deep breaths later, she finally opened her mouth to speak again.

"A number. Seventeen, to be exact."


	2. impalas

Her legs shook. Maybe because of the weakness in them, or maybe because of the coldness. It was hard to tell. At the moment, she was numb. Numb to the world, numb to the pain, numb to the words Dean spoke to her.

"Hey, you listening?" Dean questioned, snapping his fingers in front of her face. She blinked out of her reverie. With a shaking hand, she pushed back her long, tangled hair. It was greasy as she combed her fingers through it.

"Yeah, yeah," the girl nodded. Bags were prominent under her eyes. The shirt she was was thin and torn. You could see her ribs poking through her skin.

Wherever the girl came from, it was nowhere good.

In a split second decision, Dean pulled off his jacket and placed it on his shoulders. She tensed under his touch, and winced when his hand touched her shoulder. Dean frowned, and pulled down her shirt to see her shoulder.

A black bruise stained her otherwise porcelain skin. It was a kaleidoscope of colors, black and blue the most prominent. She bit her lip, and shrugged the jacket back over her shoulder.

"Come on," Dean said, turning around to exit the parking lot. He'd have to look at that when they weren't in the freezing cold. "Sammy will be wondering where I am."

He led her to a Chevy Impala, the door squeaking on its hinges as they opened. She climbed into the front passenger's seat, relishing the heat blowing out from the air vents.

"How?" the girl questioned. Dean turned to look at her curiously as they drove down the back road. He went a least ten miles over the speed limit.

"'How' what?" Dean asked, egging her to finish her inquiry. She looked to the worn road ahead of her. Her throat was parched, and it felt like ages since she last used it.

"How did you find me? It doesn't look like you had a reason to be in the parking lot? Why did you even go near there?" the girl interrogated, her questions spilling out.

Dean took a deep breath before answering. "There was some weird shit going on around that parking lot. Signs that happened during the apocalypse. Sammy didn't want me to check it out. Thought that whatever was in there would kill me. I didn't want him there, either, so I went alone."

A frown marred his face, trying to think why he automatically gave her all the answers to the questions she voiced.

"I'm guessing you and your brother are close? That is who we're going to, right? You don't seem like you two can separate at all for very long."

"I guess you could say that." Dean silenced the conversation after that, turning up the volume to the old rock he had playing.

The girl looked out the window, trying to remember anything. Anything at all that could link her to her past. If she could remember, she could find where she belonged.

She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she wouldn't like where she "belonged".


	3. substitute

"Sammy!" Dean called into the motel room. Sam poked his head out of the bathroom, a toothbrush in his mouth.

He frowned at the sight of the girl, who nervously looked around the motel room. Dean waved his hand at her in a mocking manner, telling her to come in. She was too distracted with looking around she didn't notice, so Dean took her by the forearm and pulled her into the room.

The door slammed behind them as the girl cried out. Sam disappeared back into the bathroom once again, and he came out again with the toothpaste rinsed out of his mouth.

"Who's this?" Sam questioned, giving a certain look to Dean.

"You know those weird sightings?" Dean started off. Sam frowned, giving Dean his signature bitchface.

"The ones we promised to investigate together?" Sam finished. Dean nodded his head, making a sweeping motion towards the girl who looked to have stars in her eyes.

"This is what they were pointing to," Dean finished. The girl finally came back down, and she nervously gave Sam a once-over to ensure herself that _maybe_ he could be trusted.

His eyebrows creased as Sam inquired, "Her? All those signs were pointing to her? What's her name?"

"That's the thing, Sammy. We don't know," Dean said. He pointed between him and the girl who was ready to bolt out the door in case she needed to get to safety.

"'We'?"

"I don't have any recollections to who I am," the girl filled in. "Only the vague memory of the number 'seventeen'."

"And before you ask, no. We don't know what that number means," Dean said before Sam could say anything.

"If we don't know anything about you, how are we supposed to help you? It's not like..." Sam trailed off, giving a pointed look to Dean.

The two boys went over to the opposite side of the room the girl was on, and she looked around the room some more.

"Dean, she may not know of the supernatural world. Which means-"

"That she isn't going to be prepared for what we'd bring her through," Dean finished for him. He ran a hand over his face. "What are we supposed to do about that? Anywhere we bring her, something will follow her."

Sam looked up at the girl who was closely inspecting an old appliance in the motel room. "We have to help her find who she was in the past, or _what_ she was. Then we drop her off somewhere."

"Or we could just drop her off somewhere," Dean suggested, making Sam glare at him. He refused to leave the woman alone if the only memory she had was of a number.

Dean groaned, tugging at his hair. He walked back over to where the girl was. She whipped her head up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Her wild hair flew in all directions at Dean's approach to her.

"Well, I guess you're sticking with us. In the meantime, what are we gonna call you?" Dean wondered. The girl swallowed once, then finally spoke up with her idea of a name. Or, at least, a substitute for one.

"Just call me 'Seventeen'."


	4. brand

"Maybe we should call Cas," Dean suggested. Sam shook his head.

"We already agreed that we can't bring her in on all this supernatural crap," Sam argued.

"What else are we supposed to do? She doesn't have any memory to what 'seventeen' may mean, or anything else about herself," Dean cried out, his hands flying to his hair.

Stressed green eyes wandered the room. The shower to their motel room was running, and Seventeen was no doubt inside of it.

She was covered in dirt when Dean had found her, and some substance that looked suspiciously like blood. No sulfur was found near her, however.

A cry suddenly sounded from the locked bathroom. Sam and Dean both looked to each other before running to the door. Dean banged on the door.

"Seventeen!" Dean yelled, pounding on the door. A sweat grew on the nape of his neck. He had just found her, rescued her. What could have possibly happened since then? He wasn't going to let her die so quickly.

"I..." Seventeen stuttered from inside the bathroom. She had just stepped out of the shower, and it was still running. Fog clouded the mirror as tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm fine, it's nothing."

"Like hell it's not," Dean said, eyebrows furrowed. He pounded on the door again.

Seventeen bit her lip, debating whether to tell them. Shakily, she slid the cotton shirt she had before back over her head after clasping her bra. Her hands shook as she dressed herself in the tattered clothing.

How had she not seen it before? It was such an obvious feature, a contrast her pale skin. Scars lining her body, few dimples, and a _brand_. Covered by her ratty hair, behind her left ear. A small circle burnt into her skin. A mark of some sort.

But that wasn't it. Of course it wasn't. Tattoos lining her ankle, one on her ribs, one behind her right ear, another on her side, and then the one on her shoulder. They were in such obvious places, yet she failed to notice. Dean also failed to notice them.

Once she saw them, she couldn't stop looking at them.

"Seventeen? Seventeen!" Sam called, rattling the doorknob. Her thin fingers unlocked the door, and the boys burst inside. They looked at her with shocked expressions, especially at the tear tracks.

Wordlessly, she tucked her hair behind her left ear to reveal the brand. The boys paled at the revelation. Wherever Seventeen came from, there was no doubt it wasn't close to anything of the likes of heaven.

"Is that..." Dean trailed, his green eyes closely inspecting the brand. He took a small step forwards.

She began to nod her head, tears still running down her face. She hastily began wiping them, her hair once again covering the brand. Sam sighed, leaning against the old wooden doorframe.

"A brand," Sam finished. "I guess a number isn't the only clue we have anymore."


	5. change in subject

"I don't know, Dean," she repeated again. Her eyes only looked to the window. She avoided all eye contact with the boys, fearing what she might see in their eyes.

"It has to mean something. At least try to remember," Dean insisted. He leaned forwards on his chair, elbows resting on his knees. His hands were clasped together tightly as he tried to make Seventeen at least remember something. A tidbit of information, even the slightest piece, could knock all the dominoes down and fit everything in place.

"For the last time, Dean, I don't remember!" Seventeen finally cried out. The volume of her voice tore Sam's attention away from his laptop, leaving both the boys to stare at Seventeen. Her eyes had finally left the window, only to glare into that of Dean's.

"Seventeen, we didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Sam said calmly. He pushed the laptop to the side, consequently all the research about the meanings of circles. Nothing. He's found absolutely nothing, and it was starting to unnerve Sam how much of an enigma this girl was. But for now he had to keep his concerns to himself.

With a few shuddering breaths, she insisted, "No. No, it's fine. I'm just... freaked about the whole thing, that's all. I didn't mean to go off like that." Her bottom lip trembled. She pressed her lips together, blinking rapidly. Her mind was set on one mission. She would find whoever branded her, and she would quite possibly kill them with her bare hands.

Savage thoughts of the blood and insides she could rip out of their body infiltrated her mind, and it temporarily lulled her. It was only when Dean grabbed her bicep did she come out of her reverie. Her stomach clenched.

"You okay?" Dean questioned, his hold steady on her bicep. No more tears blurred her vision. A slow nod shook her head. Her tongue swiped over her lips. They were chapped. She felt thirsty. When was the last time she had water?

"Can I have a drink?" Seventeen slowly asked. Sam nodded, getting up from his chair to grab a water bottle. With thirst burning her throat, she downed half the water bottle within a couple minutes.

It only took a few more minutes to finish the rest off. The water soothed her throat, and she almost asked for another one. Dean whistled at how quickly she drank the water, while Sam's eyebrows raised.

"I don't think I've seen Dean drink a beer that fast," Sam laughed. He grabbed his laptop again, pulling up all the research he's found so far about the markings on her body. The older Winchester denied what Sam had said, insisting that he could drink a pint of beer in a minute flat. Seventeen laughed along. Thoughts of what she could do to whoever branded her slowly vanished. Right until the moment she stopped laughing.

She quickly sobered, her mouth upturned in a smile that was struggling to stay on. How the hell was she supposed to laugh? It wasn't like she was in a happy situation. Why was she laughing when she could be hunting the person who did this to her. Who's to say multiple people didn't do this to her? Dean frowned as he saw her smile waver. Whatever thoughts she'd earlier been consumed in had once again gotten hold of her. Leaning his head back, he groaned.

Sam glared at him over the top of his laptop, making Dean roll his eyes. "Did you find anything?" Seventeen asked, getting up from her seat to look at the screen of Sam's laptop.

He sighed, saying, "No. There's nothing that's significant about the number seventeen, or a circle. I don't know." She bit her lip, gently taking the laptop from him into her lap. Her fingers were nimble as they danced along the keys.

"Maybe that's the point," Seventeen thought out loud. Both the boys' eyebrows furrowed as her words registered. "If I were organizing some top secret thing that would brand a person, I wouldn't make it obvious. If you use something that seems like it has absolutely no purpose, it makes it ten times harder to figure out what it is."

Dean nodded, walking over to the refrigerator to grab a beer. "That still doesn't explain why I found you in that parking lot. Say this was some big secret thing that was willing to go through all this trouble. Why'd they dump you there?"

"Whatever you believe, Dean Winchester, I don't have all the answers," Seventeen rolled her eyes. "There's going to be more than that. Those are just educated guesses. I don't know the depth of the situation I was obviously in, only that-"

She stopped suddenly, her mouth snapping shut. Of course she had to think out loud. This would lead them to interrogate her about what she was going to say. She had kept this bit of information from them for a reason.

"What? Seventeen, I swear to God if you keep this from us-" Dean swore, swiftly being cut off by Sam who glared at his older brother.

"Nothing," Sam said. "He'll do nothing. We just want to know what you were going to say. Whatever it is may lead us to find more clues about who you are so you can be with your family. Seventeen, all we want to do is help."

A sharp pain ran through her brain as Sam spoke. All we want to do is help. All we want to do is help. All we want to do is help. All we want to do is-

"Why the hell do you want to help me anyway? How do you know how to do all of this? I've seen the guns you guys carry on you. Are you some kind of criminal team? If you do one good deed, you'll feel better about all the crimes you commit? Is that it?" Seventeen pressed, turning the table on the boys. "Am I some pity case? Because I can sure as hell leave right now."

"There's no need for that," Dean negotiated. "We found you, and now we want to help. That's all there is to it. Whatever else doesn't matter."

"Yeah, right," Seventeen scoffed. "There's no way I'm taking help from possible criminals. You guys have secrets. It's so blatant in your eyes. And I know you guys have been lying to me. Partially, at least. I don't know how much of what you've told me is truth and how much is a lie. But I'm sure about one thing. I don't have an ounce of trust in you."

"You're gonna have to trust us if you want help from us," Sam said. Dean nodded in agreement. Seventeen's back stiffened.

"No, I don't. You can help me, and I could try to help you. Then, when this is over, we walk away. I conveniently forget about your existence, and you forget about mine. No need for keeping in contact," Seventeen said with finality in her voice.

"How are we supposed to get anything done if we don't trust each other?" Dean asked, green eyes narrow. "I'll constantly have to look over my shoulder to make sure you aren't gonna do anything to us. This won't work if we don't trust each other."

"Yes, it will. Because I'll be looking over my shoulder, too."

Seventeen got up from her chair, grabbing the doorknob to their motel room. Both the Winchester boys stood up from their chairs to stop Seventeen. Sam grabbed her shoulder, and she shrugged him off.

"Where are you going?" Dean called. Anger was edging in on his voice. It had turned gruff and gravelly.

"I remember one thing. Fresh air clears your mind. So I'm going for some fresh air," Seventeen decided. She slipped out the door before Sam could catch her. They let her go, resigning to dealing with her later.

The moment she got outside, she let out a breath. They had completely forgotten about what they had earlier been asking her about, how she had cut herself off mid-sentence. All it took was a talk about trust.

They didn't need to know about what Seventeen had found.


	6. tabs

"You're leaving?" Seventeen asked incredulously. Her eyebrows were raised as she leaned against the peeling wallpaper of the motel room. Sam and Dean looked a bit uncomfortable as they made up excuses to why they had to leave and why she couldn't come with them.

"Well, yeah," Sam said, scratching his neck. "We have to go do some things. It'll be easier if you just stay here. You don't have to come with us. While we're gone, you can do some research if you want. Anything about yourself."

Seventeen rolled her eyes at his attempt to dodge the real reason he didn't want her to tag along. She'd done it plenty of times since she's met the Winchesters to know when someone was trying to hide something from her.

With pursed lips, she finally said, "When will you be back?"

As soon as the rumbling engine of the Impala left the parking lot of the motel she was to stay at, Seventeen pulled something out of her pocket. Blurred ink was inscriped on it, and it looked to be maybe a few months old. That's what the date proposed, at least. Creases formed between her eyebrows as she analyzed it all she could.

This wasn't a coincidence at all. There was the exact number. The only number she could remember. Ink clearly stated on the slip of material that this was the number. Her hand slightly shook as her finger traced the number. Seventeen. Seemed like a haunting number to her at this point. There was no telling what this could really mean.

If it meant what Seventeen thought it did, it would mean bad all around. For her and the Winchesters.

The ink-inscribed number had long been put back into her pocket. Her fingers danced around the keys of the laptop as she researched anything and everything that related to her. A tab caught her eyes, however, as she looked at the tabs that started to accumulate. One caught Seventeen's eyes as she re-opened it. Descriptions of a long deceased woman. Her life, children, relatives, anything that related to her in the smallest of ways. Even the address of the orphanage she founded. Then there was the gruesome description of her murder. Children taking a prank too far on the old woman. A horrible accident.

There was a frown etched on Seventeen's face as she looked at the laptop's search history. Things exactly like this, all about people having died. Articles about supposed haunted places. Multiple mythological articles about ancient monsters said to still roam the Earth. Tabs on fairies, mermaids, angels, demons.

Whoever the hell Sam and Dean Winchester claimed to be, they were definitely lying. Letting that go was not happening.


	7. laughing

Goosebumps rose on her arms as she felt the fleeting touch of cool metal on her arms. The jacket she wore was hardly enough to keep her from shivering in her spot. There wasn't a place in the city that wasn't being kissed by the coolness of winter.

After finding the tabs pulled up by the Winchester boys, Seventeen had made the conscious decision of leaving. She didn't care that she had no memories, only that she didn't lose everything (including her memories) just to be murdered by two maybe psychotic men. God only knows what kind of people searches for that kind of gruesome murder.

It was only once she got out of that town did she realize that the same town that she had run from was the same setting as the murder.

Perhaps it was a coincidence, or maybe the Winchesters wanted to sightsee the place of a murder.

Either way, Seventeen refused to stick around long enough to find out.

"When's the next bus?" Seventeen questioned, looking around the small building. The woman at the train ticket booth gave her a sweet smile, told Seventeen an answer, then handed over a ticket after Seventeen had given her money.

The small station was hardly filled with people. It was Seventeen, the woman in the booth, and a couple of other people. Most people were still sleeping, or simply weren't ready to deal with the world yet.

There wasn't enough time in the day for Seventeen to escape from the Winchester brothers. It was probably going to end up being one of the stupidest things she's ever going to do, but it was needed in the face of it. She was a coward for running away from them, but she would hopefully find it was for the better. Murder does not seem like the pleasant way to go.

A woman sat down next to her, earbuds in. Seventeen now had someone to be social with, act like she belonged, but she wasn't going to start a conversation with anybody. If people like the Winchesters exist, who knows who else is out there.

"Hi," the woman next to her finally said. "I'm Mara."

Seventeen's eyes flitted to the woman and found that the woman was already looking at her. With a quick glance back to her lap where she had previously been keeping her eyes, Seventeen finally greeted the woman back.

Pressing her lips together because of the awkward tension, Mara looked away from the face of Seventeen. "So... it's cold out, huh?"

Name, Seventeen realized. This woman wants a name that she didn't have. Quickly finding one in her head, she spoke whatever name came to her.

"Mia," she quickly said, making Mara's eyebrows raise. "My name's Mia."

A smile quirked Mara's eyebrows as she held out her hand to Seventeen. "Nice to meet you, Mia. I have a feeling that this is a start to a very great friendship."

"I have a feeling that this friendship will end as soon as I board a train in two hours," Seventeen laughed.

Mara laughed along with her, and Seventeen briefly wondered how Mara managed to do it. She felt she hadn't laughed in centuries, yet it only took a few sentences for Mara to have her laughing. At the moment, she didn't care. Maybe this friendship would end when they boarded the trains, but for now it would blossom.

"Two hours? I board my train in two hours, too. My family didn't want to wait on me. Said something about having to meet up with my aunt."

Seventeen licked her lips, trying to come up with another lie. Mara was making her laugh, but it was necessary to lie to her. "I'm actually travelling right now. I don't have any family through here, just passing through."

Mara's eyes widened at the mention of travelling, glittering with what seemed like galaxies of hope and wonder. "Traveling? I've always wanted to! Tell me where you've been."

Thus, Seventeen delved herself and Mara into a web of lies that seemed like they had some sort of truth to them, like they were familiar to her. That wasn't possible, though. She remembered, let alone remembering that she took a trip to Switzerland for the summer before going to the Caribbeans for the winter.

Time seemed to fly by as Mara and Seventeen exchanged stories, one's true, one's fake. Mara seemed like such a genuine person, Seventeen began having difficulty lying to her. She wanted to divulge all her secrets to this girl, but she knew she couldn't.

When the train came after the two hours came up, both girls were found to be standing up and stretching.

At the same time, they questioned each other about standing up. Both laughed when they found they were both boarding the train that would take them to the great city of Chicago.

Boarding the train together, they sat next to each other, picking back right where they left off. Memories of the tabs that Seventeen found pulled up on Sam's computer were quickly pushed into the back of her mind as she filled empty places with the light of Mara's stories.

For a brief moment, the Winchesters filled her mind. Would they wonder where she went? Would they notice she almost depleted them of all their cash? She didn't take any of their multiple credit cards, the amount of which they had made her suspicious. Nobody had a need for that many. It was only their money that she took, and that's all she needed. Until she found somewhere she could create a life for herself under the pseudonym "Mia" that she adopted, she would pickpocket and perform petty theft for. It was simply the only way at the moment.

A concerned look from Mara brought her back to the present, and the girl once again had her laughing.


	8. escapees

"Where the hell could she have gone?" Sam questioned, looking around the motel room, a frown etched on his face.

The woman that Dean found was gone, along with most of their paper money. Dean wore a frown on his face, assuming the worst situation. She was really a thief, trying to steal all their money (she succeeded). She was a witch, planting a curse somewhere in their room (who knows what she did while they weren't there).

They were stupid to let her alone in the room. Someone shoulda stayed behind. It was only a small ghost hunt. If things got rough, they could've prayed for Castiel. Instead, they were wondering where the woman went.

"I say we just let her go," Dean shrugged, sitting down on one of the beds. He began to gather all his things, shoving them into a duffle bag.

Sam glared at Dean. "We can't just let her go off on her own. She doesn't have any memory of who she was, let alone what's out in the world. She'll be killed in a matter of time."

"Has Sammy gotten attached to the amnesiac in the couple days she's been here?" Dean asked, continuing to pack up his things. "I'm just saying, she left. We didn't tell her to. She did it on her own, and we're not responsible for her."

The younger Winchester ran a hand through his hair, trying to decipher what to do. They couldn't just leave her all alone... but Dean was right. This woman wasn't their responsibility.

"At least ask Cas to check on her," Sam groaned, going to pack up his own things.

"You got it, Sammy," Dean grinned. "Castiel, oh Castiel... I need you to angelically check on this one chick or whatever," Dean prayed, holding his hands together like a child in a church choir.

"I do not know of who you pray for," Castiel said, appearing in the middle of the motel room.

Dean jumped, holding a hand to this chest. Glaring at Castiel with his green eyes, he said to the angel, "Oh come on, Castiel. You've seen her. I know for a fact that you've been here while she was. There's no way you can't remember her."

A frown etched onto Castiel's face. "I... I do not recall ever seeing a woman in this room."

Both Sam and Dean stopped what they were doing to look at Castiel. An angel that recalled the beginning of humanity didn't remember a woman from a couple days ago.

They definitely had to find her now.

"We have to find someone that would probably know how to do with this," Sam said, trying to be rational. They couldn't freak out over an angel not having a memory of someone with no memories, right?

"Crowley," Dean said, trying to voice reason. The demon probably knew of something, anyway. It would be just like him to dump someone in a parking lot with no memories. Maybe Seventeen was really a demon in disguise, which could be very likely.

Everyone grimaced at Dean's suggestion. They didn't want to, but it was smart. Summon the King of Hell, and find out if he knew something.

"I hate demons," Sam muttered before trying to find that right stuff to summon a demon.


	9. confrontations

Mara and Seventeen were in a bar.

They had previously gotten off of the train, and they found that, for less money, they could stay together. Maybe one day, they had decided, they would buy an apartment together.

For now, however, they stayed in a cheap motel. The motel was similar to that of the one the Winchesters were staying in, and Seventeen was brought back to memories of when she was staying there.

"Hey, Mia, you alright?" Mara asked, sipping the cheap beer she'd gotten.

Seventeen's eyes wandered up to where Mara was standing, and she quickly shook herself out of her reverie. "Yeah, fine," she muttered. She couldn't think about the Winchesters. They had no key to her past that would help her to remember who she was. The situation would be easier if she could just forget about them like she did her entire history.

"You don't look fine," Mara commented. She took another sip of her beer.

Without a single word, Seventeen motioned for the bartender to come over to her. She ordered a beer, taking a long drink of it whenever she had access to it. Mara watched her do so with little amusement.

"Stop avoiding your problems," Mara advised. "You're being irrational."

"What are you, a psychologist?" Seventeen muttered into her beer.

A small laugh escaped Mara as she admitted, "Yes, actually I am. Well, I _was_. That reminds me... Mia, I can't stay with you in the motel any longer. The reason I came to this city is to visit family. They've offered me to stay with them. It's just cheaper if I do. I'm really sorry."

There was a small lump in Seventeen's throat that she quickly swallowed. She would be alone. Again. How could this keep happening to her? Why did she leave the Winchesters? Maybe if she didn't, then she could've found a better opportunity to escape them, and then find-

"Mia," Mara said, her voice full of concern as she shook her shoulder slightly. "I don't think you're alright. Do you wanna head back to the room?"

"When are you leaving?" Seventeen asked. Her voice was quieter, hardly audible over the sounds of the bar. There were poker chips flying over a table, pool being played by drunken men and women, and rowdy customers arguing over a subject of politics. Mara still heard her, though. That was almost what surprised Seventeen the most. Other than Mara moving out of the motel room already, of course.

"I'm moving out tomorrow," Mara said in a small voice. Seventeen was surprised she could hear Mara this time. It was a matter of miracle they could understand each other in venues like this.

"I'm guessing you've known you would for about a week," Seventeen said. There was little accusation in her voice. She understood why Mara was moving away. It was cheaper, and she wasn't boarding with someone she's never met in her entire life.

 _If that's the reason Mara's moving out_ , Seventeen thought, _then I should move out of my own skin. I don't know myself, anyway. It'd only make sense for me to do that._

Mara gave a small nod instead of an answer this time. She was with the quiet resolution that she'd leave if Seventeen took this the wrong way.

But she didn't.

Seventeen took it in a way that she took a couple bills out of her jeans pocket, dropped it on the bar, quickly finished the beer, and walked away. It was not the way that Mara had planned for her to take it.

Mara's hand landed on Seventeen's shoulder. "Mia, I'm sorry. You can't just walk away, though."

Seventeen's eyes landed on Mara's face. There was sorrow, mourning, and a little bit of anger mixed in with the colors of Seventeen's eyes. She shrugged the woman's hand off of her shoulder and said with a grave voice, "I'm afraid I can. I'm afraid you'll be gone anyway, so you shouldn't care. I'll be back in the room by tomorrow morning."

"Where are you going?" Mara called after her. Seventeen began to walk away from Mara, the silent resolution on her mind. She wasn't going to be disappointed that Mara left. She barely knew her, anyway. It'd be silly to think that the woman she completely and utterly lied to would stick with her. Not that she knew of the lies, of course. But eventually, she would probably get to know of the lies Seventeen sprouted. Then Mara would run away as fast as Seventeen did from the Winchesters.

This would become an uncontrollable cycle that Seventeen wanted to stop. She's the one that started it, and yet she'll never be able to end it. Every time she runs away from someone, someone will run away from her. She could see it now. She'd be alone for the rest of her miserable life.

"Away," Seventeen admitted over the noise of the bar. "I don't know. For a walk, probably. Don't follow me. You're gonna leave, anyway. Why rub salt in the wound when you don't have to?"

Mara pursed her lips, but didn't go after Seventeen. It'd be useless. She'd only known the woman for so long, she couldn't really comfort her. They were a broken pair as of now.

Crowley was in the alley that Seventeen walked into. Why did she have to pick this alley of all alleys? Was she always going to be so stupid?

"Hello, darling," Crowley said, making Seventeen frown. She turned around to exit the alley, but demons already stood in her way. She began to breathe deeper, a scared look on her face. How had she already fallen for a trap?

"You know, your little Hunters sent for me. They thought I knew where you were. I didn't, but I do now. I wonder what they'd do for a hair on your head. It'd be interesting to find out, wouldn't it?" Crowley said, prowling closer to Seventeen.

She looked around the dark alley, puddles of water on each side. All of it was accompanied by trash, and she eventually saw the gleam of a broken bottle on the side. She dove towards it, holding it up to the demons.

They laughed in her face at her choice of weapon. With one motion of his hand, Crowley had the bottle flying way out of her reach. "Do you really think that's going to do anything?"

"No," Seventeen admitted, backing up a little more. "But it did work as a distraction."

Quick moments lead to Seventeen jumping on top of the dumpster next to her, then climbing on the fire escape. Crowley rolled his eyes, then appeared at the top of the apartment building Seventeen was running to the top of.

"Fancy a climb, did you?" Crowley questioned when she got to the top, making Seventeen scream. In a fit of fear, she pushed Crowley back.

A singeing feeling heated his chest, and Crowley fell back. Seventeen stood there shocked for a moment, then ran. She felt a dropping feeling in her chest, then suddenly appeared back in her motel room. There was a burning feeling throughout her core, and she felt like her entire body was inflamed.

Gasping, she dumped herself in the dirty bathtub and ran the water on the only setting it had: cold as the arctic.

There was instant relief when the water hit her skin. It was like an glacier hit lava. In a few motions, all her close was off to better feel the cool water against her heated skin. For a while, it still felt like flames were licking her skin. It eventually wore off, however, and she was able to breath normal.

It took close to an hour before she got out of the bathtub. Her skin felt wrinkled and tight from all the water, and she could see her skin grow prune. There was condensation on the mirror, which was the result of the water meeting her skin.

Crowley had scared her, and suddenly she felt like fire was kissing her skin. This wasn't something she'd ever experienced before. Not that she could remember, anyway. The gaps in her mind were still there, and she briefly let the thought of "maybe this has happened before and I don't remember" cross her mind. It was a possibility, and any possibility had to be handled.

She took a thin, old towel and wiped the steam off the mirror.

Distraction quickly took a hold over her whenever she was brought back to the confrontation between her and Crowley. He had said something about her little "Hunters". The sound of the word was familiar, like she had heard it be used like that before.

Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. Seventeen would have to go back to Sam and Dean if she wanted answers. Crowley was there because of them, and they may know something she doesn't. Even if it was just to steal information from them, she'd have to go back.

Now she had to find them.


	10. in a diner

It wasn't Seventeen who found the Winchesters. Rather, it was the Winchesters who found Seventeen.

The rain was falling hard and fast from the sky, and she found herself drenched to the bone in the cool climate. Finding that she hated the feeling of the rain, she quickly took shelter in a diner. As she scanned the menu, she almost didn't care to notice that the Winchester Brothers sat in her booth. One across from her, the other beside her.

Slowly, she looked up from the menu. They both looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to scream and throw a fit and try to get other people to help her. She, however, did nothing except for go back to the menu.

As she debated between a breakfast burger and the pancakes, Dean began to talk.

"No hissy fits?" Dean questioned, looking at her with confusion prominent in his eyes. Seventeen merely shrugged at his question.

"You can't just ignore us," Sam said, frowning at her from across the table. His elbows leaned onto the table, and their faces showed everything of relaxation. Seventeen knew that they were ready at any moment to pull out the guns they had hidden in their jeans.

"On the contrary, I can. It's amazing you boys even bothered to come find me. Did you not like how your little demon friend went about it?" Seventeen questioned airly, flipping to another page in the menu. Tea or coffee?

She pondered all the options in her head, then decided her meal would depend on what she wanted to drink. The waitress soon came back, and Seventeen put in her final order. Before the boys started talking again, the waitress left and Seventeen quirked an eyebrow at them. They soon realized she was expecting an answer, and she wanted one now.

"Crowley wasn't supposed to go after you," Sam admitted. His look was sincere, and Seventeen knew he was telling the truth. "We just wanted to know if he'd ever seen you before."

"Ever seen me before?" Seventeen echoed before scoffing. "Sorry, boys, but I've never been to Hell." Dean rolled his eyes at the woman. Of course she'd never been to Hell, but maybe the demon had still seen her. Perhaps there was a deal that had previously been made in the course of Seventeen's life.

Dean wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. Seventeen didn't seem innocent. She would be the type that made a deal for revenge on someone. Of course, that'd come back to bite her in the ass years later as her soul gets dragged down in the pits of hell.

"Why did Crowley want you?" Sam asked, wrinkles etched onto his face. Seventeen gave him a blank look.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I can't even remember my name," Seventeen stated. Sam and Dean shared a look at that.

"You're going to have to come back with us. You know that, right?" Sam questioned. Seventeen rolled her eyes and nodded. She knew what would happen after she stood up from this booth. She'd be right back in the hands of the Winchesters.

Maybe she'd run away again. Maybe she wouldn't. The Winchesters weren't sure, which made them paranoid. They had to know somehow. Otherwise, they'd freak out.

Seventeen almost knew about it. She thought there was something odd about them and how much they knew. They knew about Crowley almost immediately after she said it, but she didn't know anything else. They had a lot to figure out about each other.

And Seventeen was going to start with Dean.

* * *

 **A/N ya know i kinda feel like a bitch for not updating this in so long because i kinda forgot i wrote this. here's a chapter and i know it's not that good, but i promise the next chapter will be at least 2000 words.**


	11. panic's grip

"Again," the man spoke.

She didn't want to do it again. Her feet felt as if they would fall off at any point in time. Her breath had turned into quick rasps. She wasn't sure if she could even do it again.

This was a younger version of the woman who called herself Seventeen. This was a broken and weak version who knew nothing about fighting against the word.

So, she did it again. Her fists and feet met that of another girl's around the same age as her. They were fighting, blood flowing out of the other girl's nose. This wasn't uncommon. If you didn't come out of the ring without some sort of injury, you were considered weak.

The girl's name might have been Charlotte. It didn't matter to Seventeen. All that mattered to Seventeen was that she comes out on top.

But... no. That wasn't her name. Seventeen wasn't her name. It was something else, a name she couldn't describe. It was on the tip of her tongue. What was it again?

"Stop," the man ordered. Seventeen felt like she had just woken from a dream. The girl, Charlotte, was beneath her. Her nose was not just bleeding now. It looked to be broken.

Seventeen looked at her hands. The skin was bloody and broken. She quickly got off the other girl as the instructor moved closer to the pair.

The instructor tsked at the sight of Charlotte. "Such a weak little girl," the man sighed. A gun quickly found its way into his hand as his eyes turned to the color of a midnight pool.

A gunshot rang throughout the room, and there was even more blood on Seventeen. It wasn't just her blood, but Charlotte's blood was on her, too. She felt disgusted by herself, like she could throw up.

This wasn't right. Why was she here? When did she get here? How did she end up like this person? Her parents... her parents would've hated her if they could see her now. But where were her parents?

It took a little too much time for her to come to the realization that she was the reason she didn't know where her parents were. She was the one who pulled the trigger. She killed them. Their blood was on her hands-

"Seren, I'm proud. You've come so far in your training. I feel your soul is almost tainted enough to pass the final initiation. You have enough sins on your head, at least," the instructor praised her. Her name hit her like a brick.

 _Seren_

 _Seren_

 _Seren_

* * *

"Seren!" she gasped out as she sat up straight on her bed. The blankets pooled around her as she breathed heavily. Seren felt as if she was suffocating, and she threw the blankets off of her.

Blankets fell in heaps on the ground as Seren stood from the bed to begin pacing the small room given to her by the Winchesters in the Bunker. It was small, but it was protected. If she tried to escape, the boys would know almost immediately.

A sheer panic had gripped Seren within those few seconds. She was just Seventeen for weeks, and now she was Seren. But who was Seren?

Seren was a girl being trained by demons. Seren was a girl who destroyed others to build herself up. She punched and kicked at a simple order. She wasn't always that Seren, but she had become that Seren.

The demons. That's why Crowley came for her. He came back for her. He wasn't done with her yet. She had so much to do. She wasn't in Hell and that was an issue. But why was it an issue?

What did she need to do to escape that panic?

Everything felt so dark. She couldn't breathe, and she ran into her desk. The lamp fell off of it, shattering into pieces on the floor. In her panic, she stumbled over them. The pieces cut into her skin. It was just like when she used to use a knife to cut into other people's skin.

Tears ran down her face as blood ran down her feet. She finally fell to the floor, and she felt pieces of lamp cutting into more of her body.

It felt like another eternity before someone came rushing in.

Dean crashed her door open and stopped at the sight before him. He'd never seen Seventeen like this before. He knew she was probably broken, but not this bad. After all, that's all Seventeen was to him. She was Seventeen, a girl with no memories.

It did not take long for that to change. It took milliseconds, actually.

Through all the panic attacks Dean has denied having, he knew how to identify one. She was gasping, curling in on herself. He saw the blood smearing on the floor with lamp mixed with it. He immediately dropped to the ground, trying to get her out of the glass.

"Seventeen," Dean said, his voice soft but stern. He touched her shoulder, and she almost immediately retracted her body from his. She further cut her skin.

"No, no, no," she kept repeating, a constant mantra coming out of her mouth. The word began to come out faster as more tears came out. She felt her stomach churn, and she knew the contents would be joining the mixture on the floor soon.

She kept cursing herself for letting this happen. She was such a fucking dumbass for letting this get this far. Now Dean knew she was a weak little girl in need of comforting. God, she was so ruined. She should never have let this happen-

"Seventeen," Dean repeated, this time gripping her shoulder so she couldn't roll away further into the shards. He had to get her to regain focus and control of her body. Then, he'd get her out of the lamp shards. After that, it was just a matter of cleaning her wounds.

Right now, it was dealing with the panic of Seventeen.

"No!" she cried out, curling into herself further. She began to shake her head quickly. "That's not my name! That's not my name!"

She was practically screaming by this point, and it had Sam running into the room. His face softened at the sight of Seren, curled up and so vulnerable.

"Sam, help me," Dean said, trying to get Seren out of the lamp shards. Sam quickly knelt on the opposite side of Seren as Dean, both of the boys lifting her up.

Seren struggled in their grasp, trying to escape their grip. Both of them had stern holds on her body, however. She kept struggling until they managed to get her into the bathroom where they gently set her inside the bathtub.

Once her skin met the cool material that composed the bathtub, Seren immediately shrank into herself again. How could she let herself do those horrible things? She did all that just to survive.

This didn't feel like surviving, however. She felt as if her entire world was crashing down on top of her, suffocating her. The weight of the world did not lessen its load as it crushed each and every one of her bones until she was nothing but a crumpled mess.

She felt cold water splashing on her face, and she wanted to feel as if she weren't drowning anymore. Slowly, she felt as if she could breathe again as more and more water stuck to her face. The sweat that stuck to her skin was washed off with the cool water that was quickly turning colors as the blood dispersed through it.

Dean wanted to do something else. He wanted to assure her that it was okay. But he couldn't. He couldn't remind her of the good life she had been living because he didn't know anything about it. He didn't know where she came from. The only place he knew she came from was a parking lot that he found her in. There was no story of Seventeen's for him to recite.

"That's not my name," she yelled again as the water level rose. It now covered everything up to her mid calf, and Sam turned the water off. Dean continued to splash cold water on her overheated skin in an effort to get her to cool down. The water was also there to help her cuts that sliced over her skin in several different areas. Sam knew that some of them would need stitches.

"What's your name?" Sam asked gently, kneeling beside Dean. He had gotten tweezers from the medical kit inside of the bathroom, and he began to dislodge lamp shards from her skin.

Seren whined slightly at the feeling. Her body felt like it was torn apart, both on the inside and the outside. She struggled with a bit as she tried to find her name inside of her mind again. "Seren," she finally rasped out. Her voice was so hoarse when she used it so quietly. Her throat felt raw from all the screaming she did, and her body finally felt tired.

All she wanted to do was sleep, but she couldn't. Now, she was in the cold water that was ironically making her feel like she wasn't drowning anymore. It was a situation in which she couldn't explain. She never would be able to explain it.

Both brothers shared a look. How did she remember her name? They were both questioning if she had just begun to imagine things in her state of hysteria. They wouldn't be surprised. Maybe she had been possessed by a demon and that was the demon's name. Perhaps a demon had abandoned her body in a parking lot for Dean to find.

"Seren," Dean repeated, and she slowly nodded her head. She whimpered in pain more as Sam pulled out a large piece. Sam set it with the rest of them in a small, wet and bloody pile next to the tub. The water had turned a completely different color by this time.

Dean swallowed a little before continuing, wondering how much she had supposedly remembered. "What else can you tell me about yourself, _Seren_?" he asked, saying her name with a little more emphasis to show that he understood that that was her name.

At the sound of his question, Seren shrunk in on herself. He knew her name, but she couldn't tell him her story. He'd hate her, kick her out. He'd feel so betrayed by her, she couldn't-

"Seren, can you tell us anything else about yourself?" Sam questioned, taking a break from pulling pieces from her skin. She licked her bottom lip before shaking her head no.

Both of the boys knew she was lying. She was too hesitant before shaking her head no. Her eyes still leaked tears, however, and they were screwed shut. Her entire face was contorted by the way she was pressing her eyes closed.

Gently, Dean placed a hand on her shoulder. His rough and calloused hand met her burning hot skin. "Can you open your eyes?" Dean asked gently, rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder.

She didn't hesitate this time, and she only shook her head no. Even through her eyelids, the lights were too bright for her eyes. She felt as if she was back on a lab table with the fluorescent lights hanging over her drugged body... _no no no no not again_.

The tears started with a new effort, and she began sobbing at the thoughts of the cuts and the surgeries that were "needed" and suddenly the cold water felt like metal and she had to get out.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, struggling to keep Seren down as she thrashed around in the pool of water. The piece of lamp that he was trying to pull from her skin had lodged in as she moved her legs around wildly in the pool.

They both held her down, Dean trying to soothe her into stopping. It took around two minutes for her to finally stop, and it was only after they had drained the tub.

She was shivering mess inside of the tub, some of her blood still leaking out into it. Quietly, Dean began to hum a tune as he tried to distract Seren from Sam pulling pieces of lamp from her legs again. It took nearly five minutes for her to stop shivering. Still, Seren felt nauseous from all that she's managed to remember. At any point in time, she felt as if the contents of her stomach would be leaving her.

She pushed it all into the back of her mind, however, and focused on Dean's voice as he hummed a song neither of them really knew.

* * *

It took nearly an hour for Sam to get all the pieces out, wash the cuts out with rubbing alcohol, and put bandaids on the ones that were especially bad. Dean had started to help out for a little while, putting bandages on her upper body where she needed them.

Her shirt had long been removed for the simple reason that it was in the way of getting to her cuts. They had to cut it off due to the fact that Seren refused to take her arms from her sides for long periods of time.

Now, Seren laid in her bed, staring at the wall. Thoughts of the panic attack induced more panic, so she wiped her mind of any thoughts or feelings. She felt like a clean sheet of paper as she stared at the wall.

Maybe not a clean sheet of paper, she mused. A clean sheet of paper is crisp, clean, and white. Seren was torn and ripped, crumpled to the point of no use. She was not a clean sheet of paper. She was simply an unused one dropped to the ground for people to step on.

Seren didn't make much noise, either. She knew that at least one of the Winchester boys was sitting outside of her door. She knew they would insist it was for her own safety. Seren hated the feeling of having to be defended from herself. It made her feel weak and vulnerable, a feeling that wrenched her stomach.

She turned in her bed again. She couldn't sleep. Perhaps Dean would sing her another song. She laughed at the thought. After all she's put them through, she'd ask them for nothing. Especially something that seemed as intimate as that.

Five minutes later, there was a knock on her door. Seren called out for them to come in, her voice still rough and scratchy. Dean opened her door, leaning on the frame of it. Seren simply waved at him to come in, not wanting to use her voice.

"You feeling better?" he questioned, concern written all over his face. Seren simply nodded, and she had to clear her mind of the panic attack again. She wouldn't be weak in front of him.

Dean simply nodded, and he turned to go back out. There was no point for him to be there if she wasn't going to talk. That ruined the purpose of him being there in the first place.

"Wait," Seren called out, damning herself for using her scratchy voice. The tone of her voice didn't feel like her own. Her own voice would never be as desperate as the one she was using now.

Dean turned his head back towards her, and she felt herself almost crumble beneath his green eyes glistening in the pale lighting of her room. She didn't want it to be completely dark in there for fear of another... incident occurring. An incident, that's what she would call it. It would no longer be a panic attack because Seren does not panic. If she panics, she dies. It was a simple rule.

"Yeah?" Dean asked after a long period of time. Seren felt guilty for stopping him. He had more important things to do than listen to her, after all. She was nothing to him.

"Nevermind," she whispered, her eyes going blank as she turned on her side. She did her best not to mess with the multiple bandages on her body.

Dean didn't argue with her, and he simply left the room. He didn't know how to talk to her about this, and he felt it was too early to bring up her panic attack so soon.

For now, it'd be best if she just slept.

* * *

 **A/N i didn't edit this, but i did make it more than 2500 words, so i hope that makes up for it. i'm really trying to find more inspiration for this story because apparently people like it? thank you so much to all of you that are reading this and enjoying because it honestly makes my day to see that more people have favorited and followed this shitshow of a story.**

 **also, i'm thinking about starting another fanfiction. it'll be released after i finish _seventeen_ , but i wanna get an early start on it so i'm not going on month long hiatuses. the four fandoms i will write for are harry potter, heroes of olympus, avengers, and supernatural. it's gonna be a sadder story, i just wanna know if anyone has a preference to which fandom they want.**

 **thank you again to everyone reading this!**


	12. when tomorrow comes

Slowly, Seren found herself making her way to the kitchen. She could hear the boys inside of it talking about a new case they apparently picked up. Seren didn't have the energy to ask what. All she really cared about was the little tag in her hand.

She'd locked herself in her room for going on two days. Her body constantly felt hot, and she barely ate. It was easy to tell that Dean was beginning to grow worried as time went on.

Now, she stood in the doorway of the kitchen where Dean had just noticed her presence. He stood from his chair slowly at the sight of her, and she began to walk towards a chair. She sat down, licking her bottom lip as she debated what she was going to say.

It wasn't her that had to get the conversation started, however.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, breaking the silence that Seren had cast over the room. Her eyes whipped up to meet his at his question.

She cleared her throat, nodding her head. "Fine," she assured them. "I'm fine."

"Really?" Dean questioned, raising an eyebrow. Seren seemed more hesitant to meet his eyes. "You didn't seem fine couple days ago."

Her eyes left his, instead staring at the table. Her fingers messed with the tag inside of her hands. "I've already said it, and I'll say it again. I'm fine. Really."

At her last word, her eyes flickered up to meet Dean's. He didn't necessarily think that she was lying, but he knew that she wasn't telling the complete truth. She had, after all, woken them all up by screaming. Nobody recovers from that in three days time. Most people don't, at least.

"I wanted to talk to you guys about what happened," Seren finally admitted. She quickly caught both of the boys' full attention. "I had a dream. I was... fighting this girl. I think her name was Charlotte. We were fighting, and I remembered everyone called it the Ring."

"Where was this place?" Sam gently interrupted, his eyebrows raised. He'd need more details in order for him to believe this story. It was a dream, after all. They could easily alter the truth without anyone ever knowing anything different.

Seren shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted quietly before continuing on with her story. "This girl, Charlotte, we were going at each other. I don't remember having feelings of remorse when I punched, kicked, and just _attacked_ her like an animal. You couldn't have feelings of remorse."

Dean frowned at the comment she added. "Where were you?" Dean asked, repeating Sam's question.

Again, Seren shook her head. She didn't know, and she repeated that. "All I do know," she said slowly, swallowing, "is that it was hot. Wherever we went, we were sweating."

"So there was more than two of you," Sam nodded. Seren bit her lip before nodding. There had to be more than two of them. She vaguely remembered the number twenty.

Seventeen.

"I was the seventeenth person to be inducted into the program," Seren whispered breathlessly. Her eyes seemed to lose sight as she looked up to the ceiling.

Both Dean and Sam looked to each other. Sam was ready to leap out of seat at any moment to catch Seren if she were to fall. After the previous events, he wouldn't be surprised if she did.

Dean was the first to ask the question raging in both of their minds. "What were you inducted into?" Dean questioned, his eyes gleaming with concern.

Bile rose in Seren's stomach. Oh God, oh God, oh God. How could this have happened to her? She volunteered for it. _She volunteered for it_.

"What's wrong?" Dean questioned frowning. He stood up from his chair, coming around the table to kneel next to her.

"I volunteered for it," she whispered. She swallowed back bile, willing herself to not vomit all over everything. Dean grabbed her hand, quickly retracting it. Her body felt like it was on fire.

"What did you volunteer for?" Sam questioned, getting more and more suspicious. He glared at Dean to try and get him away from Seren. He didn't know how hostile she could get when she was acting like this.

Seren shook her head. She didn't know. Why did she volunteer for that? "They... they did something to my soul. It hurt so bad. It felt like they were setting it on fire," she mumbled, tripping over her words. Both brothers had a hard time understanding what she was saying.

They didn't try to get any more information out of her. Neither of them wanted to risk her having another complete meltdown. Instead, Dean helped Seren get back to bad.

They'd figure it out tomorrow.

/

 **A/N sorry it's so short i'm experiencing a little writer's block right now. i get ideas on what i wanna right for this story and have it all planned out, but then i can't put it words if ya know what i mean. i'll try to continue writing longer chapters.**

 **editing will also begin soon and maybe some reconstruction!**


	13. death tags

Dean walked in on Seren holding the tag. He immediately frowned at the sight of it.

"What is that?" he questioned. He had come in to check on her. The boys had taken turns doing so through the night, praying that she wouldn't do anything rash.

Seren quickly shoved it under her bed sheets, her blood rushing from her face. She felt abnormally pale. The one thing she didn't want to show the Winchesters was the tag. Anything but that.

"Nothing," she quickly assured him. It clearly showed on Dean's face that he didn't believe her. No one would after she suspiciously hid something under her bedsheets.

Instead of accusing her of lying, Dean adopted a more gentle look on his face. He walked a little nearer to the bed, and Seren froze. She prepared herself to do anything. He had shut the door behind him, after all.

Dean quickly got the message after she froze. There was a minute of silence between the two, and Dean wished he could fill it. More than anything, he wished she would trust him enough to show him what she had.

"It's nothing, really," Seren insisted. She prayed that he would let it go. She wished that he would just walk away, but she knew that he wouldn't. From the brief amount of time that Seren had spent with him, she knew that he was a stubborn man. Dean wasn't going to give up just like that.

A little praying would do nothing to help Seren. No angel, not even Castiel, was going to come down to save her from this. They didn't was something that seemed so trivial.

It wasn't trivial, though. This was a clue to Seren's past. A clue she wanted to burn. Nobody's eyes should ever see what she hid between her sheets.

"You can show me," Dean insisted quietly. He lingered a short distance away from her bed, not daring to get any closer. In all honesty, he feared what would happen if he got too close. Another freak out like the one she previously had would do nothing to help Seren and find out about her past.

Dean took a deep breath. He knew that Seren wouldn't want to tell him. Her eyes lingered anywhere but his eyes. She would never really meet them. Even now, Dean could tell that her eyes were drifting around in the dark, avoiding all contact with him.

"You don't have to answer," Dean started off slowly, making Seren tense, "but will you tell me what you volunteered for? Sam and I... we have to know to help you."

Seren scoffed. They wouldn't want to help her. No one would want to help her after they learned everything she'd done. She was a monster, simply put. She volunteered to be put into the program, and they made her into a monster just like they promised to.

People could say whatever they wanted about demons, but they always kept their promises when it came to things like that. They didn't have to linger at crossroads to guarantee it.

"You'd hate me if I told you the truth," Seren spoke. She turned on her side, smushing the tag below her thigh. The sheets ruffled around her. She stared into the darkness. Seren squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered the color of Charlotte's hair. She'd do anything to forget. Hell, she'd wake up in another body bag in another parking lot just to forget.

"If I hated you for what you've done, then I'd be a hypocrite," Dean spoke earnestly. "Trust me, Seren, I'm just as bad as you could ever be. The things I've done... Sammy and I didn't want this. Our father dragged us into it. A yellow-eyed demon killed our mother. Dad practically went crazy trying to get revenge. Didn't think he would ever stop.

"The only time he did stop was when he died. Even then, he didn't really. It was a mess," Dean said, almost whispering the end. Seren didn't turn on the bed to face him. The place the tag was digging into her skin seemed to grow hotter and hotter with each passing minute. The guilt ate her up.

Slowly, her fingers grasped the tag. She shuffled around a bit in bed to pull it from under her thigh. The blankets fell around her arm as she lifted the tag into the air for Dean to take.

In the small amount of lighting, the tag looked like nothing. It was simply a piece of paper. Seren told him to turn on the lights, to see what it really was. Dean shuffled towards the door, switching on the lights.

Seren shut her eyes. It was both to protect her eyes from the light and in anticipation for him to see it. She feared the moment that he would read it and throw her out of the place. Though Sam and Dean showed her hospitality, she ran away from them. She was a bitch when they gave her a chance for a new life. Once he read the tag, she deserved anything he threw at her.

The soft sound of paper meeting floor met Seren's ears. She almost twitched when she heard Dean rubbing the day-old stubble on his chin. He read the note. She didn't doubt it for a single second. Her back stiffened as she waited for him to throw insult after insult at her.

"You were declared dead?" Dean questioned. It didn't really sound like a question, though. It was a question that Seren had no response to except for a nod of her head. She couldn't hide in the bright light. There was no doubt that Dean was watching her closely.

Dean slammed the door behind him as he left. He marched down the hallway, the edges of his vision tinted. The tag was left there on her floor as he marched towards the library where Sam was undoubtedly reading at this ungodly hour.

Sam looked up in surprise when his elder brother marched into the room. He closed his book when Dean threw a chair into a wall.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, almost scared of hearing the answer. There had been many instances in his life where he had been scared to ask his brother what was bothering him. It usually ended up being a grocery list of things. This time, it was only one thing.

"She was dead," Dean gritted out. He stared at the chair that he had thrown. "She has a tag that's put on dead bodies at the morgue. Seventeen was on it, of course." His voice was bitter. "She was dead, Sam."

"So were we," Sam spoke carefully. Dean's eyes snapped to his. Green eyes were filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated fury. Sam tried to think of the last time Dean had gotten this angry and how he had calmed him down.

"Don't you understand? People proclaimed her dead! She should be in a grave right now! That's why I found her in a body bag! Don't you understand where people go when they're dead?" Dean said, his voice hardly a step away from a scream.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to keep reason in the argument. "Heaven or Hell. Which do you think she went to? I think it could be either. Except..."

"Except she said they were constantly hot. Seren admitted that they were always sweating hot. Do you know what that means? It means that Seren died, went to Hell, and now she's raised up again like some kind of anti-Christ!"

"She's not the anti-Christ," Sam sighed. He rubbed his temples with his hand, trying to wrap his head around it. Dean wasn't wrong about the rest of it. It was almost ensured that Seren had gone to Hell. Where else would she be constantly hot?

Dean wanted to punch something. Seren was a demon. If she came back from Hell, she was definitely changed in some way. Seren may have been nice once, but that was most likely gone. Everyone came out of Hell a different person. Plus, she mentioned them tampering with her soul. That only meant she was more dangerous. Castiel would have to look at her soul before they could be sure.

"I think we need to go to bed before we do anything irrational," Sam spoke reasonably. He wondered if Seren was still awake. She could have been lurking around, listening to snippets of their conversation. If they wanted to argue about this, it'd be in private. The closest thing they'd get to private would be the Impala.

Dean sighed and nodded his head. Rest was exactly what he needed. He needed to give his head a break from all of this. Seren was quite possibly a demon, and she had been living with them for a little while. But demons couldn't get passed the Bunker enchantments... could they?

No. There was no way. If Seren was a demon, they would know by now. Whatever Seren was, Dean would be able to figure it out in the morning.


	14. bloody hearts

Seren watched it closely. It looked to be a heart, pumping at a melodic pace. It writhed with blood, seemingly floating in midair. The blood swirled on it. She couldn't stop watching it, no matter how hard she tried.

She still couldn't take her eyes off of it when she felt a new presence with her. Seren wondered if she was dreaming. A cold shiver down her spine told her she wasn't. This had to be real. A sharp nail scraped lightly down her arm. It wasn't enough to scratch. It was only hard enough to scare.

"What is that?" Seren spoke. She tried to make her voice confident, but it only reflected her internal emotions. Her voice was shaky, a clear sign she was nervous. The presence laughed. It sent another chill down her spine.

"Isn't it obvious?" the presence spoke in a voice eerily similar to Seren's. It wasn't scared or riddled with anxiety. It was a voice that was cold and calculating, but it was still Seren's voice.

Seren took a deep breath. This was a dream. It had to be a dream. Sam and Dean assured her that nothing could get inside of the Bunker. The Bunker was a safe haven that could keep anything out. The presence laughed again.

"You believe that? You believe that the Bunker is safe enough to keep you out of your own mind?" the presence laughed. It was mocking Seren. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep its words out of her mind.

"So this is a dream," Seren bit out. Her eyes remained shut. She didn't want to see what the entity was doing. Closing her eyes wasn't any different from keeping them open. It was still as dark as it was before, but there was no heart to show her something was there.

"No," the presence said idily. It grabbed Seren's chin, forcing her to look up at it. Somehow, through the darkness, she could see it. "Little Seren, lost in her own mind. I pity your foolishness. It hasn't changed since your time in Hell. You never were the most mentally strong. That was always Charlotte."

Seren's breathing began to become erratic. Charlotte. How did she always come up in conversation? She didn't mean to do it. She didn't mean to. It didn't matter anymore, though. What's done is done. Seren couldn't change anything now. Her time in Hell was over.

"Get out," Seren said slowly. "Get out of my head."

Her voice had become raspy. Air whistled in and out of her nose. She wished that she could remain calm in everything she did. She couldn't remain calm, however. Not now. Not while this thing was there. She'd regain composure when she was back to reality.

"This is reality," the being hissed. Seren's eyes snapped back to it. "This is reality. That's your heart. Look at it bleed. It's mesmerising, isn't it? Remember when you used to rip out people's heart? The blood would dry on your hands, and the others would have to tell you to wash it off. You never wanted to wash it off, but you did. You loved the look of the rust colored water as it ran down the drain. You were always the one who brushed off your own pain on other people.

"But that still didn't make you mentally strong," the entity almost sang. It leaned away from Seren. "You were still weak in the head. So many weaknesses. I'm surprised they kept you in. Maybe it's because you were a sadist. Should I say were or are? I don't know. It's been so long since we've had a meeting like this."

Seren grasped at her head, clutching her hair between her fingers. "Stop," she pleaded. Her head felt like there was a knife repeatedly going through it. Seren didn't know how much more of it she could take until her head split in two. The entity persisted with its taunts.

"I guess being reborn really made you weak. The demons tried everything to continue to control you. Sometimes I still wonder how you managed to escape. They were very tight with security down in Hell. You should've brought me with you. I think we would've had a lovely life up there where we wouldn't have to worry about who was going to be thrown in the Ring next.

"You just had to go alone. Thought anyone else would just slow you down. I guess you were right, but that doesn't make you alright. There are still a lot of girls down in Hell just waiting until you get back down there so they can rip you piece from piece over and over and over again. Because in Hell, you don't get another chance like the one you did. You wasted your chances," the entity hissed.

A tear fell from Seren's eye. She wished it would stop. Had it not had enough mocking her already? It had to do something soon. Seren wouldn't mind if it killed her already. A thought ran through her head wondering if her head or the entity would kill her first. Seren didn't really care which one killed her first. Whatever killed her just had to do it fast. She just wanted mercy at this point, no matter if that mercy sent her to Hell.

The entity clasped her jaw again. "You think you deserve death? You're wrong, girl. You're wrong to think you'd ever get anything like that. You haven't done it yet. Once you finally do what you were sent to, then I'll kill you. It won't be fast, either. It'll be nice and slow, just how I like it. You're at my mercy."

When Seren opened her eyes again, blood was running down her face from her nose. She got up quickly, and her lungs felt restricted. She stumbled from her room and into the bathroom, clutching a towel to her nose. She looked around the bathroom as tears fell from her eyes and blood fell from her nose. Seren groaned to herself at the sight of a bloody handprint on the doorknob.

She was lucky enough that she didn't wake up either of the Winchester boys. She was especially glad she didn't wake up Dean. God knows what he would've done. They would've wanted to know what had happened. Even she couldn't explain it.

"Your nose should be done bleeding by now," a new voice spoke. Seren gasped, her heart skipping a beat. She looked wildly around the bathroom until she saw Castiel standing by the bathtub.

"I... didn't mean to frighten you," Castiel apologized. Seren bit her lip, waving it off. She took the bloody towel off of her nose. When her nose didn't start bleeding again, she put the towel down in the sink.

She turned the knobs, making a note to herself to clean all the blood off of everything. "It's okay," she spoke quietly. She scrubbed the blood off of her hands and arms, then tried to wash a little bit of the blood out of the towel.

Castiel observed her quietly. The Winchesters spoke of how she could be fiery at times, but Castiel couldn't see it. She looked paranoid. Her eyes were wild and her hair messy. She couldn't be that threatening if she looked scared of anything that crossed her eyes.

"Is there something you need?" Seren questioned quietly, rubbing the blood off of the sink. She dried it off with a clean towel. With the wet towel and dry towel in hand, she began to follow her path back to her room to clean off any blood she left behind. God knows what either of the Winchester boys would do if they saw blood all over the halls.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," Castiel said after a moment's hesitation. His blue eyes followed her every move as she got on the floor to wipe a drop of blood off of the ground.

Seren stopped her movements to look up at him. She had a slight frown on her face, her eyes big and wide as they looked up at him. "Why do I feel like you're lying?"

She wasn't wrong in that feeling. He was lying. Castiel hadn't come down just to make sure she was okay. That was a thing reserved for Sam and Dean. He came down to analyze her. The boys had told him of her freakouts. They had told him of her sometimes unnatural body temperatures. Only a few hypothesi came to mind, but he would not tell her of them. He came down to tell Sam and Dean, but she was a distraction.

Castiel wondered if Seren knew that she praid in her sleep. Sometimes he would hear desperate calls and pleas for someone to help her. No one ever did. There was something about Seren that kept all angels and other divine beings away from her. She held the presence of Hell, but she was no demon. She didn't seem to hold power, either. Therefore, she wasn't worth the kill.

"I need to make sure you're not a threat. I've dealt with angels and demons before, Seren. I want you to know that if you ever try to cross Dean or Sam, I will personally take care of you," Castiel warned her. His voice was cold and unfeeling. Seren got the point of his words. He didn't care about her. He only cared about Sam or Dean's safety. She was just another one of their pity cases to him.

Seren took a breath for a minute. Silence overcame them while they analyzed each other. "Are you threatening me? Or is this a fair warning to get out of the Bunker and never make contact with the Winchesters again?" she questioned. She didn't dare look away from Castiel's eyes. She would not lose their staring contest.

He didn't bother answering her. She knew which one it was. He meant both. The Winchesters had their own fair share of shit-shows to deal with. They didn't need hers. Castiel was telling her to get out because he knew that she was collateral damage. She was dynamite waiting to explode with Sam and Dean in the vicinity.

Castiel would do anything to protect the boys he had come to watch over. He defied heavenly orders and fell from grace for them. He was too far in this to let them die at the hands of a girl who didn't know who she was.

In the end, it was Seren who lost the staring contest.

/

 **A/N that is now a thing. i am trying to update more frequently because school is now out. since i started this so long ago and i really need to finish it, it is now my goal to update at least three times a week. hopefully sometimes there will be more.**

 **seren's having a few troubles with her own mind, castiel doesn't like her, and i really need to go back and edit this book because i hate how short the first few chapters are and i intend to make them longer and more organized. i'm probably going to finish this and call it a draft, then completely rewrite it as a different book, post it, then delete this because this is the definition of trash.**

 **THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU WHO ARE ACTUALLY FOR SOME REASON STICKING WITH THIS PIECE OF TRASH!**


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